The Silent Ones: Finding Happiness
by DuchessOfDemoness
Summary: When Lancelot’s family discovered his death, they were all grief stricken, but no one else suffered as much as his younger sister, Torne. To find closure, she sets out to Britain and discovers more then she thought.
1. Childhood Memories

King Arthur Silent Warriors Tristan

I was inspired by the unique twist to this legend in this movie. I found it rather intriguing and with my love of history, most likely fun to work with. I altered a tad bit; Tristan of the three fallen knights was the only one to survive. This way what I have plotted would make sense. You'll discover how he survived later on in the story. Enjoy! Mandy

(Childhood Memories)

" TORNE!" The loud roaring of his voice called out," WHERE DID YOU RUN TO DAMNED IT?" She ran further into the plains, her small feet padding on the ground, the wild grass allowing her safety from detection. Today, her worst fears finally would become reality. They were coming, what could she do? Why did they have to take her older brother away? Why? She held unto the only thing she could possibly ever give him, her own two hands whittling the tiny figure. The little seven-year-old couldn't comprehend why any one wanted to take Lancelot away for so long.

" TORNE!" Her father's impatient bellows would have frightened her if she were in any real trouble," Torne," the mark of relief meant he had found her. The young blonde haired girl spun on her heels and pouted," Yer big brother is leavin' and yer out runnin' around," he scolded softly and walked forwards, picking her up from under the small girl's armpits. Even though she wanted to ask every question on her mind, every confusing thought was stifled by her father's embrace. He understood. He knew how much pain the small girl was experienced, fore he too felt it as well. Only the man that that carried Torne back also understood that what his only son faced was for more then what his little girl could understand at this point.

" Why does he have to go?" She asked finally, her head nestling into her father's burly chest. There was the distinction in her voice that gave way to how near to tears she was.

" Romans' believe that their ways are everyone's," he soothed back the tangled mess around her eyes, peering into her dark brown eyes," You don' want to make Lancelot upset cause you weren't t'ere to say good bye, would you? He adores you," he sat her down as they entered the edge of the village. Lancelot's yells were clear, they were right, the Romans had came.

" Father!" Lancelot rode in and confirmed their unhappy thoughts, " The Romans are here..." with one last pat to the head he stalked off, leaving her behind. His strides were massive, not meant for her to follow him, but she tried anyways. Her beady eyes watched Lancelot and their father, speak to each other. The words only warriors spoke amongst themselves. The mentions of brave warriors and their next life as loyal steeds was something that a girl child should never over hear. With her father's last words to Lancelot, he allowed the boy to mount his horse.

Torne felt pained, the one person that protected her from any real trouble was now leaving, her play mate and brother.

" Lancelot!" she cried, running forwards and holding out the tiny rodent emblem. She smiled as he plucked it out of her tiny hands, and examined it. She hoped that he always would wear it. Let that necklace serve a reminder as to who he was and of those that truly loved him.

" Don't be afraid, I will return," he assured the tribe before turning his horse away and riding off. It was a promise she always thought he would keep.

" Lancelot!" her father's loud voice rumbled out into the empty prairie," RUUUUUSSS!" he yelled, before the rest of the villagers followed, along with Torne and her squeakish voice.


	2. He's Comin' Home

Wow, it took me so long to update this, not even funny as to how much I've prolonged it. I'd like to thank the three people that reviewed the first chapter; bandgeeks101, Xlady-ZoZo_The-Pict-PrincessX, and milou. Kind of went through and edited it a little bit, so its hopefully a tad bit better then before. So here it is, after who knows how long. -Mandy

(Fierce and Undying Ways)

It had been years since that day. And during that time young Torne had developed into a full-grown woman, able to bare children, and graced with beauty. Many of the woman folk said she looked like her mother, blessed with blonde curls and long limbs, but had inherited too much of her father's demeanor that even the most daring of the young men in the tribe were reluctant to make her his wife. Men could handle chastisement from his woman, but they most certainly wouldn't allow her to carry the crossbow in the relationship.

" Torne, you silly girl. You have chores ta tend to," the scratchy and aged voice of her mother scolded, hitting at the mat of hay with a stick to startle her late rising daughter. "It should be a mark 'gainst the gods for a young springing' woman to be so sleepy. I'd give the breast you and yer brother suckled on for yer youth.

" I'm up," Torne groaned as the stick made contact with her ankle. Her thin hands massaged the already swelling welt, her lip curling from the pain. What she didn't want her mother to know was of her late night adventures off with a certain young member of the tribe…Gods forbid if the word reached her fathers ears. He may have aged greatly, but a walking stick serves as a versatile weapon as well.

" Good, 'cause when Lancelot returns, I want everythin' ready fer him," Torne sighed and brushed back the golden red hair that laid in long curls, covering her bare breasts and running down the middle of her back," Git dressed an' help beat out the blankets," the woman left as quickly as she could, the hurry of the day having taken over everyone in their nomadic tribe, excluding Torne.

" Yes, mother," she sighed and pulled herself from her bed. It seemed her mother was always upset with her these days. The unmarried daughter of hers seemed to become more and more stubborn about the ordeal the older she got. There were so many potential young men in the tribe and she preferred to waste her adult life wild as the untamed horses, dreaming of a venture across the world. As far as her parents were concerned, a young woman who was unwed at her age only served as a burden on her family. They would never say so, but it was true. The longer she prolonged marriage, only served to hurt her family's gain.

Silently, she slipped a stiff wool dress over her head and brushed her bony fingers through the knots in her hair before hurrying out of the opening to the hut.

" Ah young Torne," an older man nodded, caught off guard by the sudden movement. He regained his grip on a thick log and adjusted it so it was on top of the other timber. Inclining her head a bit, her eyes questioned his intentions. A fire? This early in the day? " I'm preparing' the welcoming' celebration for your brother. Tis six months after his departure fifteen years ago. Enough time for him to return to us no?" he answered her unasked question then smiled lightly and stepped shyly away, allowing her to return to her chores.

" Aye, I am happy fer it too," she grinned and walked passed him, working her way over to the outskirt's of the village were the woman were tending to the clothes and watching over their playful younglings. It didn't feel like such a long time from the time she herself had run amongst other children. Her brother always watching over her…A smile pulled itself into place at this thought. How much had that boy changed over this time? If he had changed as she had, then let the god's take credit for a strapping lad.

" Torne. Glad ta see you finally woke to help," one of the younger woman teased, handing her a rope and pointing to a wooden pole. Torne took the end and ran it through the hollowed out end, fastening the end and stepping back. Her eyes flickered up to her friend. Saamik. She had been a fellow playmate as well, and yet Torne couldn't remember a single memory of a younger Saamik like she could Lancelot.

" Ya know, Torne," Saamik smirked and pointed off toward the pack of men near by," Oden has been lookin' at you,"

" Hush, Saamik," Torne's mother hissed, trying divert the gossip from her daughter's inability to get a man to marry her.

" He has though," Saamik giggled and started handing the blankets to other woman to hang up," Young, strong, handsome," Torne ignored her, placing a stiff wool blanket on the line," You need a husband, Torne. It's our way of life. You marry to be protected, to keep the village going. I'm happy and content with Brokk," Torne never said anything, but sometimes she couldn't stand the woman here, so willing to settle with the first man who showed interest in them. Sure Oden was a fine man, but she was looking for something...something that didn't involve a life time of birthing many wild children and tending to his every desire.

"Saamik," Torne stopped," I hear Brokk, despite his broad shoulders, lacks in other areas," Torne propped the wooden stick between her legs and began to crack up.

"TORNE!" her mother shrieked in humiliation as Saamik blushed and playfully whapped her friend's ankles. The laughter calmed a bit after awhile, and the woman began to pick up their pace.

" I wonder how Lancelot turned out," her brother's name pulled her back into the loose conversation that was being maintained.

" Aye, all those years of fightin'," the younger girls giggled as Torne rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile as well.

" Ya are speakin' of mi brother here. There is no way the likes of him could grow into the man ya guys are thinking' of," there was a loud snicker before the rest burst out into their own laughing spells, even the older woman couldn't help themselves.

" Yuh, the little pest. He was an adorable child though," Her mother joined in, finishing on the her set of blankets, and piling them up.

" I guess we'll just have ta see won't we? If Lancelot is quite the man or if he is like his father," both Torne and her mother looked up, glaring at first, but then easing into the jest a bit. The woman remained on with their converse of children and simple daily lives. It seemed that Lancelot had drifted out of their minds for the time being, but whom could really blame them? After all it had been fifteen years since any one had really ever seen him. Torne pondered over a few possibilities, what if he really wasn't coming back? He could have turned into someone she wouldn't be able to consider her brother. Torne only had to see the look in her mother's eyes to shake the ideas away. It didn't matter what he was like, Lancelot was family, and her father's son. As her father's son, he would never break a promise. He would come riding home to them and that was that.

Names All names were Norse, since I couldn't find any Sarmatian ones. Torne is a newer one, but a female one. Oden is a male name that means rage or frenzy. Brokk is a dwarf that made Nordic god Thor's hammer. Sigrun is from a Valkyrie (Female warrior) meaning victory secret


	3. A Resolution

In this chapter I kind of bounce back and forth between solely speaking about Torne, into a little bit of their mother, then with Galahad. It still makes sense though, or at least I hope it does. Just kind of wanted to add an extra element that's different from the first two chapters.

There was an unsettling feeling over the village as a lone horsemen approached. A young scout had spotted the armor clad man coming there way and rode as fast as he could back to spread the word. Torne had been one of the first to hear of this, and it didn't take long for her to rush to the far east hill where several others had gathered as well. The time had come, and their clan didn't disappoint. Electricity tingled amongst the gathering crowd. Hushed whispers turned into cheers as their long lost hero had returned to them at last.

"I wonder what stories there'll be 'round the fire," a man pondered loudly.

"Aye, he looks lean and young…fine lad," a mother agreed with her daughter. The horsemen stopped a few yards off, almost weary of them. It had been fifteen years, and now he thought them strangers? The thought was almost too painful.

"Come, brother! Come say hello to your sister!" Torne hurried forward at least. Her arms were outstretched towards the rider as her eyes studied his face. Dark brown hair curled down over his forehead, the same hair she would teasingly braid. Hair now grew upon his face as well, the boy that left had come back a man. Could it truly be? Lancelot back from service and not at all the lad that left them. Torne felt an immense amount of pride swell in her chest. He had done them all proud, and all he had to do was come back alive.

"Unless your eye color has changed, son, you're not Lancelot," her father finally spoke for the first time since they had gathered. Only then did Torne notice the crystal blue eyes of the stranger. Lancelot's eyes had been dark like her own; like their father's.

"Who are you then stranger?" Torne asked, an unknown feeling of dread rising up. It came off as anger and anxiety as she stared wide eyed up at him. For some reason the man seemed to only hear her father, most likely caught off guard by how well an old man such as he could remember such a small detail.

"Yes…you're correct…" Torne took note of how his eyes couldn't rest on any of the villagers. He was nervous, but of what? Did a band of nomads looks so threatening to a man that had seen Rome and it's evil?

"You comin' in my son's stead only means one thing. He is not comin' back," Torne had always known her father to be strong, and in his later years wise, but she wasn't sure if she liked him for being so at the moment. Torne bowed her head in disbelief, already sensing what words would come next," Tell me, soldier, does he stay by choice or does he stay 'cause there's a grave with his sword in it?"

"Pa…" Torne forced down a lump in her throat. She felt someone's hand on the small of her back, but comfort wasn't what she needed.

"Torne, please don't cry…" her mother whispered, working soothing circles with her hand.

"I am Galahad," the soldier said. So the face finally had a name to go with it," I fought with Lancelot for many years in many battles," He took time only to gulp back some sort of sorrow," He was one of the noblest men I've ever known, and it-" They were words that were heard by deaf ears. Patting around the bush wasn't going to make the news any less heavy than it already was. Torne could already feel which road this traveling stranger was taking, and in a way, she was annoyed because of it.

"Just say it!" she yelled, cutting him off," Spit it out!" Her father laid a strong hand on her shoulder. She wasn't sure if the gesture was meant to calm her or remind Torne to be silent," I figure that we're a strong enough people," everyone around her fell silent. What could they say to keep her in line? Each of them wanted to know the exact thing. Would their hero not return to them after all?

"Yes…Lancelot fell in our last battle against the Saxons. He died bravely," Galahad stared down at his hands and allowed the news to settle in. He hadn't expected a mission that didn't involve any sort of fighting could be so hard. Arthur had come to him with the request. He had said that he had a certain amount of sympathy that the other men didn't possess, and that would make this task fairly simple for him. Had he have known this was how Lancelot's people would receive him he would have stayed behind. Galahad hadn't however. He wanted to make a sort of peace with his past. Give his farewells to his lost companions and move on in his life, this being his stepping stone.

"Well then… he is one of us. Bravery is not in somethin' we scarce on," Her father was already turning to the fire," We're not short on manners either…come Galahad. Entertain us with your stories then," Torne watched him dismount with narrowed eyes. The messenger most certainly shouldn't be shot because of his message, but then again, revenge was a funny matter that tended to break the laws of man.

"Let mi son take care of yer horse," a man offered, and kindly took the reigns from Galahad.

"Thank you," Torne watched as everyone flocked around him, not with the excitement as they would have with Lancelot, but with a certain amount of reverence and hospitality. No one cried, not even her mother. Maybe it was the fact that they had forgotten him? That his younger years didn't balance out these fifteen or so years. Lancelot was not a stranger, just long lost. Torne bit back her tears as she realized this.

"Torne…we'll miss him," her mother said," We'll neva know what would have been, but this is how everythin' is. Torne, soon you'll understand that this is how the gods work. Don't cry," She wished she could take those words to heart. She had always believed in what her mother had said, fore wisdom and maternal love were always useful. This time, Torne just could muster up any sort of feeling other then grief. Lancelot had made up her earliest childhood. He had been the friend and brother she needed; saving her from a stampede of horses once. Even after his departure Torne had thought about her elder brother. Shaped herself so that she could be strong minded like him. While many others could only remember certain memories of him, Torne's childhood contained him all over it. And now it was suppose to mean nothing? A false path that the gods had set her on? If there had ever been a path…

"Torne! Come honor our guest with your presence!" A majority of the village were making themselves comfortable around what would be the fire. Galahad was respectfully seated on a log facing the last of the sun's rays so that on lookers would see he face till the very last of the sun had disappeared. It had been a superstition of their tribe since the beginning, she was sure of it. With a reluctant stride, she made her way over to sit next to Saamik and her children, the furthest she could position herself away from the stranger.

"I don't think I should be giving stories…I really should be heading out," Galahad looked up and saw the blonde haired woman close her eyes and a tear streak down her cheek. A healing process for all of them.

"Mi understand…maybe we shoul' comfort ya with our stories of Lancelot. Would ya prefer t'at over ones of battle?" Or he could leave. Torne wanted nothing more then for the bearer of bad news to ride off and never return. Especially now, since he wouldn't be kind enough to share. Her father was too kind. Almost too much sometimes.

Of course the soldier wouldn't speak of his time with Lancelot. The reasons either being because he deemed the village too stupid to understand the art of battle or he really didn't know her brother. Biting the inside of her cheek, she suppressed the urge to yell at her father as she watched the two men embrace briefly and her father gesture towards her parents hut. So they were offering the bearer of bad news room and board. She worked her whole life to earn shelter and food, this stranger came along and the village welcomed him like a king. Sitting at his feet, offering their homes for him to rest for a journey home. What had he done for them? A village as small and vulnerable as them could afford to give out handouts to just anyone. Wild eyes rested on the young man named Galahad. He was no older then herself, but he had seen so much more of the world…had experienced with her now dead brother. A jealousy she didn't know she could possess welled up inside of her consciousness. If anything, this Galahad owed her more then she did to him. He was indebted to her for a brother's love and time. Something Torne would make sure he paid back.

Without a second's thought she turned away from the sight of her family and the newcomer. Her mind was set upon one and only one option. If it meant breaking away from all that she knew, then so be it. The grief and resentment that had entwined itself in her soul clouded the simplest of logic. The little girl who had held on to a promise was now a woman with a mission.


End file.
